


The Mistress and the Demon

by Lavavulture



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Gen, Mindless Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/pseuds/Lavavulture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivienne doesn't suffer fools lightly and silly, chattering demons are the most foolish creatures of all.  So really, it's up to her to fix the situation the Herald put them all in when she let Cole stay with the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mistress and the Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a kinkmeme prompt which requested that Vivienne and Cole bond for some reason. I feel really sentimental towards this story because parts of it are from the very first story notes I ever wrote with DAI characters. I never fit those scenes into a story until now and honestly I just want to write a thousand more fluffy stories of Vivienne sternly mothering Cole (someday). And maybe a few of Vivienne sternly domming Cole because let's be honest, that's the street I live on, and this story is the squeaky-clean, platonic house that I'm visiting for the weekend.

Vivienne watched the last of the mourners leave Skyhold and felt something that was equal parts relief and loss fill the space they left in her. Bastien’s wake had gone splendidly, of course, and the Herald had been a charming ingénue in front of Bastien’s sister and son, just as Vivienne had anticipated. They would spread the word that the sweet-faced elven Herald was clearly blessed by Andraste, even if she so humbly insisted that she wasn’t. The whole event really couldn’t have gone better. 

So as Vivienne pressed one her hands down onto the railing and waved in soft motions to Laurent with the other, she certainly didn’t feel a sting in the corners of her eyes. Especially since she had lined those corners in the way that Bastien had told her made her look like a queen. He was wrong, of course, it was gaudy and she would rarely deign to wear it outside of the bedroom, but today she had risen early to paint her eyes until they looked exactly the way he’d loved.

With a delicate swipe to ensure that the shimmery eye make-up was as perfect as it had to be, Vivienne turned back to her bedroom. She would allow for an hour’s rest, for beauty’s sake if nothing else, and then she would return to studying the tomes the darling Herald had procured for her. Someday soon as thanks she would take the lovely girl to the best shop in Val Royeaux and insist that she pick out something flattering to her face and figure. Dalish simplicity was well and good but a pretty young woman should learn to use her assets, even if she only seemed interested in using them on smug apostates who were far too old for her. Not that Vivienne would say anything. It wasn’t her place.

And Bastien had been old enough to be her father so that was perhaps not a leg she could stand on, shapely as both her legs were. Although Bastien had been rich and charming and Vivienne felt that Solas was decidedly less of both. Perhaps if Vivienne was very careful about it she could divert Lavellan’s attention to one of the powerful older elf mages in the Circle. She made a mental note to consider the possibilities later.

As Vivienne sank down into her chair and prepared to think about absolutely nothing for at least two minutes, she noticed something bright green sticking out from under her pillow. With an irritated sigh, Vivienne rose to her feet once more and investigated the green mystery object. As she tugged it out, she almost sent it fluttering to the ground in shock.

Bastien’s scarf. The one he’d bought himself for his sixtieth birthday and insisted on wearing, even though it had made him look like a choleric frog. She’d hated it but he’d loved it and they had waged sensual, skillful war over it. Even after he’d gotten sick, he had continued to find it wherever she hid it, no matter how far away or absurd. After he’d died she’d gone to the small peony planter in the garden where she had hidden it but it hadn’t been there. She’d nearly wept like a perfect ninny over its loss but she’d shoved it out of her mind by the time she’d left the estate. What was gone was gone.

Except here it was again. Vivienne ran one finger over the soft fabric, almost smiling at the crooked stitch on one corner. Tearing it had been a mistake—a move like that had no place in their Game—but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask a servant to repair it. She’d done it herself and Bastien had kissed the small prick on her finger that night without ever asking how she’d gotten it.

This was impossible. This was a miracle. This was…

Vivienne suddenly felt cold when she realized exactly what this was. She set the scarf on her bed and rose to her feet. She looked around but of course she saw nothing. He was not so careless as that but he would certainly want to watch her reaction. They always did.

“Do you imagine my grief will make me vulnerable to you now, demon?” Vivienne steeled her face to absolute rigidity when the demon seemed to appear by the stairs. She wondered how long he had been watching her, studying her, imagining the taste of her magic on his skin as he burned her soul out of her body and fit inside.

“No.” Cole shook his head hard, his watery eyes wide in surprise. He was such a dedicated deceiver. It was no wonder that the naïve, little Herald was so fooled by him. She was lucky she wasn’t a mage or he would have stolen her body when they’d first met. “I was trying to help.”

“What could I have possibly done or said to make you imagine that I would welcome your help? How did you get this?” Vivienne realized that her question was foolish—demons were masters at trickery—but something in her forced it out.

“It was…in the bright bag. There will be a time to speak, a time to mourn, a time to meet. But that time never came the right way and then he had to leave.” The demon was fidgeting terribly with his long fingers and it made Vivienne want to shake him still. Instead she squared her shoulders and tried to decipher his meaning.

“Laurent found it,” Vivienne murmured. Of course he had. He’d always been so curious and so clever, her Bastien’s golden child. And of course he hadn’t given it to her. Their fondness for one another was built on and under the complicated rules of their official relationship. She was his father’s mistress. How could he so openly acknowledge the depth of their familial affection for one another? And they had been too busy to speak in private, where he would have been safer to reveal such a clear weakness.

The demon had lowered his head so that almost his entire face was hidden under his ridiculous hat. His fidgeting continued, drawing Vivienne’s attention back to him. He’d been different since that strange trip the Herald had taken to Redcliffe. Something more and less odd with each passing day. Lavellan had told her that Cole was becoming more human and she’d scoffed as gently as she could but it was true that he seemed changed. It worried her.

“I just wanted to help,” Cole said and under that breathy, anxious tone was the unmistakable tang of a whine. Vivienne was astonished. The creature was experimenting with irritation now, openly and flagrantly like a child.

“If you truly wanted to help, you would return to the Fade and not endanger us any longer,” Vivienne said sternly.

“I can’t go back now.” Cole finally clasped his hands together and squeezed them. “Lavellan chose and it made me more solid. The Fade doesn’t sing as loudly as it did before and Solas couldn’t make the amulet protect me.”

“Is that so?” Vivienne was openly skeptical. Cole actually looked ashamed at her statement, as though he felt guilty over not being malleable to the apostate’s magic. “Perhaps he is not as skilled as he professes to be.”

“You could try,” Cole murmured and although he sounded sincere, that whine was back under his voice. It raised the hackles on the back of Vivienne’s neck. Laurent had gone through a truly monstrous adolescence and that whine brought every aggravating moment back for her.

“Now I see why you’ve invaded my mourning under ridiculous pretense. You wanted me to help you all along.” Vivienne considered it even as Cole shook his head in distress at her words. Lavellan was a soft, gentle girl who would let anybody take advantage of her. The demon had already worked his way into her most intimate of circles and if left unchecked, he would certainly attempt to crawl deeper inside. She’d made a vow when she joined the Inquisition to protect the Inquisitor and this was a situation that was tailor-made for her touch.

“Very well. Bring me that amulet tomorrow and I will make you safe from Corypheus’s influence.” Vivienne was already thinking of the library’s collection and wondering if they had the particular book on Rivaini seers that she’d read before. That arrogant Tevinter mage would probably be in the library, arranging himself in increasingly provocative poses for the benefit of no one since the Iron Bull never stepped foot in the library, but she could probably get the book without having to speak with him. She was starting to get a headache and was in no mood for his posturing. 

“I can get it for you,” Cole said, his words coming together in an almost rush. “Dorian said that I can ask him for anything, except for more information about the question he drew for me. But the diagram didn’t make sense!”

“Very well, my dear,” Vivienne interrupted whatever it was the creature was going on about with a languid wave of her hand. “Fetch me the book and then leave me in peace for tonight. We’ll start in the morning.”

It was until several hours later, after Vivienne had reread the book and taken careful notes, that she realized she hadn’t been disturbed by the creature’s mind-reading. Vivienne scowled and read the book again. The demon was dangerous enough on his own, so seemingly simple and well-intentioned while he mined through fears and doubts. Adding Corypheus to the mix would be catastrophic. 

 

“I don’t feel any differently,” Cole said in a guilty way to his feet as he stood in the middle of a wide circle.

“This must be broken.” Vivienne set the amulet down onto her dresser as neatly as she wanted to throw it to the ground and swept down onto her bed. She picked up her teacup and took a long sip, controlling the fine tremors that tried to run through her hands from exhaustion. 

The demon continued to stand in the circle, although he’d been standing there still and quiet for hours now. Vivienne rather thought that the quiet part would be what would bother him the most. Although if he was more human now—an impossibility but she was feeling imaginative—the long lines on his pointed face indicated that he was feeling as tired as she was.

“Sit, dear,” Vivienne said with perfect coolness. Cole slid to the floor with a heavy thud like an obedient dog and Vivienne pursed her lips together. She crossed her legs and regarded him closer. 

If Cole was a normal boy instead of a bloodthirsty demon, she would scold him for the dark circles under his eyes and the hungry, aching thinness of his wrists and face. If Cole was simply the Herald’s awkward human friend, she would insist that he make himself more presentable immediately. The Herald didn’t think of her image because she was a silly, precious child but everybody else did and they would judge her for having a close companion who looked like a starving waif. It was unacceptable.

“I’ll discover what that apostate has done to this amulet and we will try this again later,” Vivienne told Cole in a voice that brooked no commentary. Cole just nodded slowly, yawning in the next moment and looking stunned even as his jaw clicked wide. 

“Do you sleep now, demon?” Vivienne wasn’t curious. That would be absurd. But she was a woman who liked to have all the information she could.

“Sometimes.” Cole rubbed at the bruise-colored skin under his eyes. “It feels like falling and I’m afraid of the bottom. Varric says that it’s safe.”

“What does Varric know of demons?” Vivienne almost laughed. That dwarf was always quick to speak of things he couldn’t possibly understand. Of course he would say that. He seemed one step away from writing the boy into his will and leaving him all the money from his terrible books.

“He knows how they can die,” Cole murmured and rubbed at his eyes again, shoving some of his stringy hair aside in the process.

“Valuable.” Vivienne considered the demon on her floor once again. He was a terrible, dangerous creature but at the moment he rather smelled like a teenage boy, which was not something she wanted in her boudoir. “When did you last bathe, creature?”

“I don’t know,” Cole said. He tilted his head as though he was curious about his own answer. “I fell into the river when we visited the Dalish camp and gave them the leather. Does that count?”

“You’re a disgrace to the image of the Inquisition,” Vivienne said firmly. Her mind was made up in that instant. She may not be able to keep the demon from joining his dagger in the name of Corypheus but she could keep him from being a raggedy mess all the time. 

Vivienne rose to her feet and Cole’s back arched up like he was going to stand but he stayed on his knees, wide eyes peeping up at her under his ridiculous hat and messy hair.

“Go to bed. Don’t leave your bed until the sun comes up. Then return here. If you truly want to help the Inquisition now that people don’t have the joy of forgetting you, you must change some things.” Vivienne took in his patchwork clothes and broken fingernails. She sniffed. “Many things.”

 

Cole stared miserably up at Vivienne from the ornate bathtub as the servant poured another bucket of warm water on his head. In the water he looked like a drowned ferret, his thin hair clinging even more to his pointed face. Vivienne nodded to the servant and he bowed his head to her respectfully before leaving, offering Cole one quick sympathetic glance. Vivienne saw it and normally such a thing would be grounds for a reprimand but they weren’t her servants and the Herald was such a soft-hearted darling that she wouldn’t be pleased at her scolding.

“You will bathe on a schedule. You will remember on your own because you don’t want me to remind you,” Vivienne said in the crisp tones she’d used on giggling young mages. She wouldn’t trouble the talented Ambassador Montilyet over such a trifle. If the creature gave her grief, she would order the Iron Bull to handle it. She gestured to the hairstylist at her side and the man approached Cole, swallowing deeply. 

“What would you like for this, Madame?” The man actually fingered a yellow strand of Cole’s hair and the demon went cross-eyed trying to look.

“Cut what can’t be salvaged. It can always grow back. I will leave the rest to your expertise.” Vivienne met Cole’s pale eyes and held them. “Behave yourself while I’m gone, creature. Listen to Francis.”

Cole blinked uncertainly and then nodded. “If it’ll help.” 

“Good,” Vivienne murmured, satisfied. She swept out of the room in a rustle of cloth and headed straight for the merchants. The boy had pitched an actual fit when she’d tried to dispose of his hat along with the rest of his patch-worked clothes and there were not enough hours in the day for Vivienne to have to argue with the stubborn creature so she would be the gracious one and work around that travesty. 

She supposed it wasn’t a great sacrifice. Boys his age were always outgrowing their clothes anyway so she shouldn’t bother spending too much time on it. She’d be satisfied if it wasn’t obvious that the demon was wearing bits of whatever he’d picked up off of the ground over the years, at least when he was in Skyhold. If the Herald was actually serious about taking him to Halamshiral—an idea that Vivienne had decided to pointedly ignore until the girl forgot about it—he was not going to look like a street urchin.

Vivienne schooled her face into the perfect blend of upper class civility and disinterest that was ideal when speaking to merchants and prepared to go shopping in the limited way that Skyhold provided. She’d give up her powers in exchange for a decent milliner.

 

Hours later Cole and Vivienne sat at a table she’d had moved up to her loft so that they could practice at his nonexistent table manners. He wasn’t really rude per se, not like the disaster that was Sera at a formal table, but he touched every cup and utensil like he’d never held one in his life.

Which, Vivienne considered, was probably true. So Vivienne had given him a thorough lecture on polite table etiquette, one that stretched on through lunch and teatime before she even realized that time had passed. Cole had listened with near-constant interruptions, to her great irritation, but he had seemed to take some of her instructions to heart as they sat for tea.

For a moment when Cole stirred his tea, his shorter hair curling up in a not appalling way away from the flattening influence of his horrible hat (she’d been very firm that hats didn’t belong at the table and he’d agreed with visible reluctance), his clothes matching and fitted, and his prattling lips shut, he almost looked like a normal young man. Not handsome, certainly, with his weak features and sickly pale skin, but almost interesting with his broad shoulders and trusting eyes. She could almost see some winsome young peasant giving him a second glance. She could definitely see one of the predatory young nobles at the Orlesian Court luring him into their bed with sweet words and empty promises, all for the glory of having tumbled one of the Herald’s own.

It was an irritating thought. The demon was dangerous and deceptive but she did think he was devoted enough to his deception to be foolish in the face of flattery. He might even end up in some terrible situation out of his misguided attempts at helping and then the Herald would be embarrassed.

“We’ve done enough for today,” Vivienne said decisively, pushing away her concerns. If the demon pulled the Herald into some sort of scandal, she may become more open to the idea of sending him away. And certainly Vivienne couldn’t waste energy worrying about the feelings he pretended to have in an attempt to trick them all. “Sleep until the sun comes up and then spend the day in the library reading the books on the list I gave you. Your lack of historical knowledge is an affront to decency.”

“I can’t sleep,” Cole said and Vivienne frowned when she realized he wasn’t actually drinking his tea, just holding it up to his face to let the warm fumes wash over him. “The floor is too loud on my back.”

“Why in the world are you sleeping on the floor?” 

“The floor is under me. I tried to sleep standing but I fell and woke up.” Cole furrowed his brow.

“People sleep on beds. If you’re insistent on pretending to be a person, you will sleep on a bed.” Vivienne scowled when the creature looked more confused and claimed that all the beds in the tavern had people in them. Truly, she had to do everything.

An hour later Vivienne had Cole installed in one of the many rooms overlooking the gardens. He protested being so far away from the tavern—he apparently liked hearing the music—but she ignored his pointless arguments until he finally sputtered to a stop, clearly exhausted from the day.

At first he settled himself down on top of the covers and Vivienne really did intend to leave it be because how could she possibly be expected to handle all of his silliness in one day, but the room was cold and the creature was already shivering. If he went and got himself sick, he would probably infect all of them with a demonic cold which would kill them in a day. So Vivienne commanded him to get under the covers and scolded him when he did it with his shoes and daggers and hat still on. Finally he was ensconced under a cocoon of blankets, yawning widely.

“Now sleep,” Vivienne said. “We have a busy day tomorrow, dear, and I’m in no mood to suffer from any of your foolishness.”

“All right,” Cole murmured into his pillow, clearly already half-asleep.

Vivienne stood a moment, watching. She’d read exhaustively on banishing demons after the Herald had insisted that Cole could stay, confident that the girl would change her mind. This would be a fine moment to try, when the creature was at his most vulnerable in a place where nobody had ever seen him be before. She could claim ignorance when the Herald asked about him and comfort her in her misdirected grief. It would be so easy.

Vivienne turned and left the room. It would be child’s play and of course she would keep the idea in mind—somewhere far in the back of her mind where the demon couldn’t see it—but she really didn’t have the patience this week to deal with a young girl’s tears. And in any event the Herald would be so pleased to see what a fine job she was doing wrangling the demon towards respectability that she might be open to the idea of meeting with some nice, handsome elf mages from influential Circles. And surely Vivienne should be able to enjoy the thin fruits of her labor of turning a mangy demon into a halfway decent young man for at least a week.

She’d consider banishing Cole next week. After she’d explored how competent he was with music. All young people should learn how to play at least one instrument. And perhaps she’d hold off until she learned if he had any proficiency with language. He might as well be useful to hardworking Ambassador Montilyet if he was going to increase her food storage needs now. 

Vivienne thought she should take notes of her endeavors. Housebreaking a demon would make an interesting paper and obviously when the Inquisition ended everyone in the world would want to learn about her time in it. She sighed at the huge task in front of her. People may even want her give lectures at the Universities about it. Laurent would certainly be interested and she would never dream of discouraging the child’s curiosity.

Truly a powerful woman’s work was never done. She pulled the green scarf from the dip of her cleavage and examined it critically. It had been just the worst color on Bastien but as she admired it against her hand, she thought it was actually pretty flattering on her. She really should wear more green. She’d consider it as she did her nightly reading and writing. Perhaps she’d even ask that ridiculous Tevinter mage’s opinion. He was a perfect fool but the man did know clothes.

A smart woman never ignored a valuable resource.


End file.
